The month that throws dread, disease, and hope into my face: daily.
The month that drags on and on....each day is passing doom.
The month that cannot choose between gray winter and green spring, between taking away and building up.
The month that isn't easily defined; it's unpredictable.
Each March, I surrender to the waves of emotions and memories. Tears fall more freely. I readily admit to my agitation and unrest. I simultaneously reach for hope and grasp at fear, because fear is familiar and hope makes me vulnerable. I'm most aware of my need for God's grace and strength.
This month, I've decided to do something a little different. Not to mask the pain. Not to regress. Rather, to relish in me, for exactly who I am---diseased and victorious and fighting and surrendering.
Coping with personal hardships, past trauma (that revisits), and anxiety is certainly not easy. There is no prescription that fits us all. But I know there are things that bring me sprinkles of joy and dashes of peace.
There are prisms: glimpses of His grace, His peace, His restoration. They stream in. Quietly. Gently. Unpretentiously.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."